Unphlegmatic
by teh goldfish
Summary: D/H. "From that moment, that first glance, those first words, a glimpse of a molecular spark flew into the air." The untold love story of Draco & Harry, parallel to the OS. It's a world of their hate, jealousy, and above all, their love.
1. Prelude

**A/N**: Here is the prologue or prelude or whatever you want to call it. It's actually the near ending of the story placed in the very beginning. Short, sweet, and worse than corny. Reviews will certainly be appreciated.

* * *

**W**e walked down a path, quite blind  
And stabbed each others toe.  
Then, luck and fate found us to bind  
And put us through some woe.

**B**ound in love, we went around  
And took a merry-go-round.  
Thus, death of love we crowned  
And that was how fate frowned.

**S**ince love then broke,  
When them and your folk  
Planted a seed of distrust that never faded.  
And, like so, never abated.

**E**nvy, we ate.  
Jealousy, we tore.  
And then there was nothing more  
That could've placed us back on the floor.

**T**hose last moments at Hogwarts were spent in enchanted silence. It was a picturesque scene in the school grounds away from all the people and noise. There was no one to be found except for two lads who sat in silence under a certain special tree. Their hands held in each others, a blond boy unwilling to let go of the other's.

A distant bell chimed. In the faraway background, barely audible train-whistles could be heard along with the onward rush of students making their way to the Hogwarts Express.

"Draco, it's soon time to part. We should start making a move."

"No. Hold on. Let us talk for a little bit."

"Fine, just for a moment though."

"So where are you going to go after we get back to London?" 

"I don't know. I was thinking Godric's Hollow again. Maybe stay at Weasley's house and start building a real life."

"How about with me?"

"No. It won't work. And anyway, I want to get away from the wizarding world for a while. I'm tired. Tired of life and all this conflict. I'm tired of magic and death. Most of all, I'm tired of love, Draco." Draco avoided eye contact in shame. "But we'll definitely see each other again, so don't be too disappointed."

And quite quickly, hope revived in Draco's eyes. He then glimpsed at Harry's face and settled on staring him in the eye intently, "You promise?"

Harry nodded and held out his little finger to make a pinky promise. "I promise."

Draco gave a meager smile and held a small twinkle in his eye. "I'll miss you, Harry. Miss you a ton."

"I will too."

A brief silence. The wind blew gently.

Then rather unexpectedly, a tear skied down Draco's cheek onto the grass. It looked like morning dew, a perfect droplet except for a regretful tinge on it.

Another tear was soon to follow when abruptly Draco brushed it off. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry about the fire and the Room of Requirements. I didn't know… I didn't know The Dark Lord had lied to me. I didn't know… Harry, I'm really sorry!"

"Hush, Draco. Don't be a wimp." Harry sighed heavily, "And don't say sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. And, Draco, don't call Riddle, the Dark Lord. It's silly. He's dead now."

Draco sniffed lightly, "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm truly sorry." He looked down at his own lap in shame for a time.

"Don't be. It's alright. Seriously."

"But…can we…can we go back to the way we were??"

"I'm afraid, no." Harry felt guilty.

Draco's eye pleaded desperately. It called for Harry, but Harry knew they couldn't return back to the way they were before. The laceration was too deep to fix this time. Only time could mend it…

_Ahhh…the memories. Those first days_, reminisced Harry.

Harry sighed again. He pulled his hand out of Draco's. Subsequently, Harry turned, walked away, and didn't dare to glance back in fear of seeing Draco's wretched expression of melancholy.

And so they diverged.

_I'll miss you…Draco…_ whispered Harry in his own head.

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	2. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Presenting my first fic! Is it a sinker? Floater?? Suggestions, support, constructive criticism will definitely be adored. I'm hoping to continue this. Not quite sure if I'm gonna continue…

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**D**iagon Alley.

This was where they first met each other. Their first memory of the other. Although, neither truly received a good impression of the other, there was something in the air. There was something in the air that foretold both their forbidden future of Eden and how both lives were to intertwine. From that moment, that first glance, those first words, a glimpse of a molecular spark flew into the air. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance it would all work out in the end.

It was at _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasion_ where both their eyes caught the other. Harry Potter had innocently entered the robes shop where he found a squat, smiling witch dressed in mauve. Her friendly smile welcomed Harry in. As he followed this lady to the back of the store, he noticed a boy with suave blond hair around the same age as himself. The boy was pale, had a defined chin, and left an impression of arrogance and pride.

Slightly repulsed, however, Harry was intrigued by the boy's garrulous voice that rambled on in delight of his own intelligence. Curious, Harry wished he could do better at making replies rather than succinct answers like "no". But it didn't work giving longer responses; it simply turned the conversation sour and left them both estranged and more awkward.

_No. This isn't turning out well, is it?_ sighed Harry in his thoughts. _Defending Hagrid as a brilliant friend will never fix this strangeness between us. Why does this boy have to make me so defensive?_

Thankfully, Madam Malkin was done before the other boy started getting into too personal questions about who he was. After all, Harry Potter _was_ famous. Tersely, the boy ended their conservation as he took his newly bought black robes. Then, after receiving his change from Madam Malkin, the blond haired boy ambled quite confidently out of the store. Before he reached for the door, he smiled hesitantly back at Harry.

He waved. "Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose."

Harry waved back in acknowledgement of their acquaintance. And he realized all too late that he didn't know the other fellow's name and wished he had asked earlier on. It didn't go that bad after all…

---

**D**raco Malfoy was quite proud the way he looked, and he was quite glad that the other boy at Madam Malkin's waved back. It was a good sign. After all, everyone, and he thought everyone, enjoyed his presence. True, Malfoy was a bit too full of himself at times, but he had his fine side too. Well, he would. Eventually.

Having walked out of the store, Malfoy went off to see his new Nimbus 2000. His father had promised one, and his father never broke promises when it came to buying things. As he sauntered to his destination, Malfoy recollected the incident between him and the mundane boy.

There were some gawky moments, but there was nothing wrong with that. They had never known each other before, so it wasn't surprising. And strangely enough, he had enjoyed rambling off into his little tangent about life. The other boy had listened politely, and it pleased him that the lean boy with glasses listened to his chatter. An interesting companion. He had liked the fellow's honesty and naivety and loved fooling around with it. It amused him and gave him quite a hoot. Moreover, he had enjoyed the calm deference received from the other. The other boy was pure like a virtue. Pure, white, and plain. And yet, at the same time, the boy was so much whiter and plainer than a piece of paper… The unfamiliar boy seemed divine.

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**T**o the unaware onlooker, many secrets remain hidden and buried in the magical realm as they are never quite explicitly explained by the writer. However, a connoisseur can pick it up fairly quickly. They read and effortlessly see through the awful heart-wrenching among the minor characters that is often omitted. They are able to observe the silent third party that envies and stands in agony in the sidelines. They are the ones able to see the truth behind the truth. And the truth is not always easy to distinguish.

Harry was one of those unaware onlookers. He didn't know his own heart too well. He simply knew it functioned. He loved and hated, and thus, it functioned properly, at least, adequately. But when it came to unclear personalities, he stumbled and stumbled unendingly.

Having met some new pals on the Hogwarts Express, Harry found himself relatively satisfied. Eating chocolate frogs, learning new, never-before-heard notions, Harry was content. And content, he was for the moment.

Except for that one little thing that consistently crept back into his conscious and constantly provoked him.

It occurred to him that his very first "friend" was not the pleasant cheerful fellow sitting across him who was eager to talk, share, and gabble. Instead, it was a boy with a pronounced chin and a faint but noticeable conceited air. Haphazardly, a chance image spoofed into Harry's head. At first, it was simply the Madam Malkin Boy waving right before he left the store. But a few moments later before Harry could see precise details, the image poofed and a new one intruded upon his thought process. There were white rose petals flittering down towards the ground already littered with crimson petals. The Malkin Boy sat docilely on the petals, knees folded back and hands crossed on his legs in a white chemise and black slacks. It was a very natural stance. There was a nice aroma too. A sweet scent of roses. Harry sighed. It was quite lovely. And strange…

"Hullo??? You listening???" A hand suddenly waved mysteriously in front of Harry's face to catch his attention. It belonged to the redheaded boy sitting across from him who Harry had befriended a while ago. The redheaded boy prodded Harry on the side.

"Oh!" yelped Harry in surprise. "Terribly sorry." The outlandish image faded into the back of his head. What was he thinking!!! "What were you speaking of again?"

"About the Golden Snitch in Quidditch. Well forget that now," said the boy across offhandedly. "So what's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.

Harry replied with bewilderment. He didn't get it. Brooms flying and all. What happened to the brooms that smooshed spiders and got rid of the dust?? To clear confusion without ado, Ron set off explaining the thrill and the anticipation felt in the game. He digressed and blathered on.

Swiftly, the image resurfaced. The view progressively zoomed towards the blond kid's face.

_Boom!_ The door of the train compartment slid open loudly. And there, strangely enough for the first time, his wish came true.

It was Draco Malfoy — unfortunately, with his companions.

And as soon Harry was aware of the Malkin Boy's presence, their eyes briefly crossed each other in curiosity and wonder.

---

"**I**s it true? Everyone's been saying down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment. So it's you then??" said Draco.

Draco was astonished that this same boy was Harry Potter. He avoided showing it. It thrilled him to know this, but it also saddened him. Already, Potter was with the wrong group of friends. This wasn't good.

The Potter boy replied with a mildly aggressive tone and eyed Draco's mean looking friends, "Yes."

No, this wasn't good at all. It was going all wrong. Draco wanted Harry as a friend. It couldn't end the other way round. It had to go correctly! It had to end the way he wanted it. He wanted to make fun of Harry's candor. He wanted Harry as a companion. Was it too late? Was it?

Slightly panicked, the pale boy introduced his uncouth companions. "Oh. And by the way, this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle." He pointed at himself. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. I forgot to introduce myself last time." He tried to beam, but it ended bitter and icy. In his mind, his eyes dilated in shock at how he acted.

What was this atmosphere of uneasiness and awkwardness? It drove Draco mad, but it didn't show through. Draco hid it well. He pushed it deep down into the dark recesses of his mind. He ventured to retain normalcy in his countenance.

And so, from the exterior, Draco held a high and haughty expression, and it simply brought about more disaster. Harry had a face that grew with distaste. But still, Draco pressed on with the awfully-gone-wrong-conversation. It resulted in Harry's bad friend, Ron, to laugh with a remote disdain.

"What? Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are." Draco pushed Ron on the shoulder. Draco was agitated. Things were dilapidating to an all time low.

Harry couldn't possibly have made such a bad choice in a friend. Draco himself was Harry's true friend. Harry's best friend. No! This filthy idiot of a Weasley just didn't fit the bill for a pureblood such as Harry. The Weasley didn't even deserve the attention. Draco knew it was now or never. He had to make it clear to Harry what was wrong about the Weasley.

Promptly, Draco held out his hand to shake Harry's. He made a meager attempt to smirk as if they were good friends and had a secret in common.

But Harry didn't take it. He coldly rejected Draco and didn't even bother to put it mildly. "Thanks, but I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself," he said coolly.

Draco was astounded. Never had any one ever said no to him. Never. Not even his mother. He felt embarrassed. A faint pink dabbed onto his pastel cheeks. There was no other possible reply other than one of coldness for Harry. Draco had to say it. It was required of a leader to be tough no matter what the situation was. He didn't want to, but he was obligated to. Crabbe and Goyle were watching and listening to his every move. They were waiting to pounce on his weaknesses.

He worded it out slowly. It was painful and agonizing. "I'd be careful if I were you." He then spat with fake aggression, "Potter." What had happened to their first meeting? What had this chance become? Draco continued with his caustic warning, "Unless you become politer, you'll go the same way as your silly little parents who died for you. You hang around with that type of riff-raff like Weasley and you're doomed." He couldn't relent.

It soon turned into a bitter struggle of words. Draco was dismayed at his own actions.

---

**W**hat had he been thinking moments ago? Guilt stirred. How could he have possibly imagined that?? It shocked Harry at his own indecency. This Draco was some egotistic aristocrat brat, and what it in the world had Harry imagined? It was too much for Harry. Only his second impression and Draco was already crossed off the lists of possible friends. He was sick to his stomach at his own miserable taste. Thank goodness they were gone.

Soon they arrived at Hogwarts, the very "un-famous" School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The first years were bedazzled by the grandness. They were amazed at the starry, candlelit ceiling of the Great Hall. They were impressed by the luxurious meal; and they were somewhat alarmed by the Sorting Hat, but excited in having been put in a house. And soon enough, they settled in and got use to all the crazy knick knacks and quirks of life. Seconds passed by, soon minutes, then hours, then days, then a week.

Despite his first days of being a relic of interest among the student body, Harry's stalkers and followers decreased as curiosity and fascination faded. Rapidly, Harry got chummier with two particular friends, the red-headed boy, Ron, and a know-it-all girl, Hermoine. They became a pod of string beans never to be separated, and everyone in Gryffindor knew that. But it too soon faded.

The memory of certain experiences and people had faded as well. Harry had forgotten his first encounter with Malfoy and merely remembered their first confrontation. However, it all changed on one fine day in the dungeons. There, with Slytherin, he had Potions with the almighty Potions Master, Professor Snape. It was then when certain recollections about Malfoy soon disrupted Harry's train of thought…

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End file.
